


Five Times Molly Wore Fancy Knickers (And One Time She Didn't)

by voxangelus



Series: If Greg's Office Walls Could Talk [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Confident Molly, F/M, Mollstrade, cute underwear, fancy knickers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 19:17:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3220388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxangelus/pseuds/voxangelus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What it says on the tin. Molly embarks on a campaign to boost her confidence and spice up her sex life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Molly Wore Fancy Knickers (And One Time She Didn't)

**Author's Note:**

> You can find pictures of all the lingerie [here at my tumblr](http://foxy-voxy.tumblr.com/post/108946157122/visual-aids-for-five-times-molly-wore-fancy). Please stop by and say hi!

Greg was - well, he was nice. Molly had been dating him for a couple of months now. They’d been on several dates outside of the house, and several dates at one or the other of their flats. They always found a lot to talk about, and they had hobbies and interests in common. The sex was good, too - Greg was gentle, considerate and almost always made sure she got off first. The problem was that Molly didn’t always want gentle, considerate sex. She wanted passionate sex. Sometimes she wanted rough sex with a lot of dirty talk. Okay, she almost always wanted that. She was pretty sure Greg was capable of it, but he seemed to think she wanted a gentle touch and sweet words. She needed to change his mind - which was why she was stood in the lingerie section at M&S in front of a selection of skimpy, lacy knickers.

The last time she’d bought anything halfway fancy was ages ago, and then that had just been sweet lace trim on serviceable pastel cotton pants. No, it was absolutely time for new, sexy knickers, and possibly matching bras. And to stop undressing in the dark. Confidence was the key to good sex, or so said Cosmo.

Molly flipped through the selection, picking out a half-dozen pairs in her size in various permutations of lace, mesh, and satin; and a half-dozen more in cheeky, fun, cotton prints. That done, she wandered over by the bras and chose a few to coordinate with the knickers she’d selected - and on a whim, tossed in a lacy, black garter belt and a few pairs of thigh-high stockings. May as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb.

She only cringed a little at the total and bravely handed over her bank card with a smile, ignoring the sales clerk's nosy questions.

 

**Cotton, Hipster, Black With Cherry Print**

Molly began her get shagged rotten campaign slowly, as she was nothing if not patient. The next time she went out with Greg, Molly wore one of the pairs with cheeky prints on. By the time they returned from the pub quiz they’d attended, slightly tipsy and more than a little handsy with each other, she had made sure Greg had seen the cherries-on-black print of the knickers several times over the waistband of her low-cut jeans by “accidentally” letting her shirt ride up as she leaned forward in her chair to confer or chat with their team members. It had been her local tonight, and Greg had his hands on her as soon as they’d stepped into the dark of her flat, shedding coats and gloves, noses and cheeks chilled from the brisk October night.

“I think you wore those jeans just to torment me,” Greg gasped against her neck, reaching around to grab her arse.

Molly felt a thrill of excitement at this early success, and pressed herself against him with an encouraging moan. “Maybe I did. Whatcha gonna do about it?” she asked in reply, nipping at his earlobe.

He manouvered her directly to the sofa and proceeded to answer her question thoroughly - and while he was still considerate (so considerate that she lost count) he was perhaps a bit more... playful than he’d been before.

Molly couldn’t find the knickers the next morning, although her jeans, top, and bra were where they’d been hastily flung to the floor of the lounge. Well, well. It seemed the DI had made off with a trophy. She counted that as a win.

 

**Lace, Brazilian, Nude**

Greg called that afternoon to invite her over for dinner and a movie on DVD the next evening and she happily accepted. Clearly a casual date, but Molly decided to up the ante when she stopped home to change. She put a snug, brazilian-cut pair of knickers made of nude lace on under her leggings and the matching bra under her tunic. Her tall boots, a light coat, and a scarf against the late-autumn chill, and she was out the door.

She’d been delighted to discover that Greg was an excellent cook (stress relief, he’d explained) and wasn’t disappointed with the simple, but tasty, chicken dish he was finishing up just as she arrived. Their chatter over dinner centered mostly on work, but there was a good deal of flirting and banter in their talk, as well. Before long, they were cuddled up on the sofa watching their film, which was pretty interesting. Neither had seen it before, and they stuck with quick kisses and caresses by unvoiced mutual agreement until the credits were rolling - but by the time the title menu had started to loop, they’d already abandoned the sofa for Greg’s large, comfortable bed. She didn’t expect they’d have sex every time they saw each other, of course, but it was still relatively new - and he was just as eager as she was.

She switched his bedside lamp on when he left the overhead fixture off. “I want to see you,” was her quiet answer to his questioning look. ‘And I want you to see me’ was left unspoken.

Greg smiled and reached for her from where he sat on the bed, and Molly went to him, standing between his legs. She brought her hands to the placket of his shirt, slipping the buttons from their holes one by one, pulling the tails from the belted waistband of his trousers. She pushed the shirt from his shoulders and then tugged his vest up and over his head with his assistance, then stepped back, taking in the view of his golden skin glowing in the soft light from the lamp. God, he was gorgeous.

Molly took a deep breath and met Greg’s eyes for a moment. Confidence bolstered by his affectionate smile, she pulled her tunic off and let it drop to the floor, then stripped off her leggings. His quiet gasp was worth every penny she’d spent and then some, as he reached for her again, tumbling her onto the bed. She felt positively _worshipped_ by his careful attention and the way he seemed determined to kiss every inch of her body as he slowly stripped her of the lingerie. Returning the favour was absolutely her pleasure. Here, then, was the passion that had been lacking. His murmured “stay” as they lay dozing afterward was merely the icing on the cake.

 

**Satin, String Bikini, Cranberry**

NSY’s holiday do was in full swing, and Molly was having a fantastic time. She and Greg had done a round of the room to chit-chat and say hello to people - and now they were swaying on the dance floor. Greg’s hand rested in the small of her back, and he kept brushing his fingers over the deep-green velvet of her short dress as they danced, roughing up the nap of the heavy fabric and then smoothing it back down again. She’d had a couple of drinks and was pleasantly warm and full of good cheer, and Greg seemed to be feeling the same. Four months they’d been together now and this was the first major social event they’d attended - so there had been plenty of good-natured teasing and smug exclamations of ‘I knew you two would be perfect for each other!’, even though their relationship wasn’t news to most of their friends and acquaintances.

“You never should have asked me to zip this dress up,” Greg murmured into her ear, pulling her just a bit closer.

Molly laughed, curling her fingers around the lapel of his suit coat. “Mmm. Is that because you saw what was underneath, or you’d rather have just stayed in?”

“Bit of both. Those red knickers made quite the impression,” he replied, pressing a lingering kiss just under her ear. “It’s a nice party, though.” The song ended, and he stepped back a bit, giving her a mischievous grin, eyebrow cocked. “I’m going to the gents’ - why don’t you go chat with Sherlock and John, and then join me in about five minutes?”

Join him? Molly was puzzled - but only for a second until her brain properly kicked into gear. “That is an excellent idea,” she said with a wide grin, smoothing down his lapel where she’d been clutching the fabric. She was certainly happy with Greg’s newfound spontaneity, there was no question about that.

 

**Cotton, Thong, Pink with Black Polka Dots**

Molly had no idea what had possessed her to buy thong underwear, but she was never doing it again. Wearing them to work had to have been the worst idea ever. Granted, the lack of panty lines beneath her skirt was nice, but she had a lab coat on all day. Nobody was going to appreciate it, least of all Greg - she only saw him at work when he was working, too. And she was meant to sit through dinner and a movie with him later. She’d be heading home to change, that was for certain.

As luck would have it, Sherlock arrived in the morgue just after she’d returned for lunch, and Greg was right behind him. Sherlock started to yammer at her right away, but she ignored him in favour of giving Greg a proper kiss hello - if they were there to see a body, it was likely nobody’s life was in danger. She managed to get Sherlock the samples he needed and send him up to the lab without much fuss, leaving her alone with Greg as she shifted uncomfortably every few moments.

“Everything okay there, Molls?” he asked, looking her up and down with a concerned air.

“I’mwearingathong,” Molly muttered, glancing off to the side.

Greg smirked. “I’m sorry, come again?”

Bastard. He’d heard her, she was sure of it. “I’m. Wearing. A. Thong. It’s insanely uncomfortable. I’m about ready to get rid of it and go commando, no matter how good the lines of my skirt look.” She took her lab coat off, turning in a circle so he could observe the effect. “See?”

“Oh, I absolutely see. I also see that your office is right over there and it has a lock on the door,” Greg said, with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Molly grinned. They’d have a good fifteen minutes before Sherlock came looking. “Yeah, alright then.”

 

**Micromesh, Low-cut Rumba Brief, Black.**

In May, Greg’s sister got married, and Greg and Molly used the out-of-town wedding as an excuse to take a long-weekend holiday, staying at a lovely little B&B about ten minutes from the wedding venues an hour outside of London. They drove up on Thursday evening after work, traffic making the drive a bit longer, but hardly unbearable in each other’s company. It still surprised Molly from time to time just how well-suited she and Greg were for each other. Their love and acceptance of each other had given both a boost of self-confidence, and Molly couldn’t remember ever feeling so beautiful every time she looked in the mirror. Being well-loved and exceptionally well-shagged agreed with her.

They stashed their bags after checking in, then headed back out for dinner. Molly had caught a glimpse of the wide, deep whirlpool tub in the ensuite and thought a tandem bath would make a lovely finish to the evening. She had the jeans on again that had driven Greg to distraction that night at the pub quiz, but the knickers underneath them were a little more cheeky than before. She almost giggled every time she thought of the rows of ruffles across her bum. The last time she’d had knickers with ruffles, she was three - but she’d seen this sweetly naughty pair online and couldn’t pass them up. They were going to look bloody fantastic with her Red Riding Hood cape from last Hallowe’en over them - and nothing else.

“You look happy. I like it when you’re happy,” Greg said, holding her hand as they walked back to the B&B from a nearby bistro.

Molly grinned at him, squeezing his hand. “I am. I like who I am with you. I like being happy, and confident, and feeling loved and secure.”

“Best compliment I could get,” he murmured, leaning over to kiss her briefly. “I was thinking. Maybe it’s too soon - but d’you want to move in together?”

“Best idea I’ve heard all night, and I had some very good ones regarding that whirlpool tub and king-sized bed,” Molly teased. “Along with a few things I have in my suitcase.”

Greg smiled wolfishly. “Please tell me the cape from your Hallowe’en costume is one of them.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

 

**Garter Belt, Lace, Black with Thigh-high Stockings, Sheer, Black.**

She still couldn’t believe she was actually going to go through with this, although she absolutely wanted to. The look on Greg’s face was going to be worth the risk. Still, butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she stepped into her heels and belted her knee-length trenchcoat securely around the waist. They had a few things to celebrate - moving in together, their one-year anniversary as a couple, Greg’s well-deserved promotion to DCI. Her wildest fantasies almost a year ago, when she’d bought that first handful of fancy knickers, didn’t even come close to her plans for today.

Outside their new flat, she hailed a cab to take her to the Yard, spending the entire ride nervously drumming her fingertips against the armrest. It was almost six, and most of the office staff would be gone and Greg technically off-shift. She’d sent him a text asking him to wait for her in his (new, with actual walls) office, and he’d said he’d be happy to.

Greg didn’t care one way or the other if she wore makeup or not, and found her just as enticing in ratty old pyjamas as he did in fancy dresses - and knowing that continued to give Molly confidence in expressing herself any way she liked. Today, though, she’d gone with smoky eye makeup and bold red lips, just part of the overall costume. As she exited the cab and strode into the building, she knew she was drawing attention. Instead of feeling self-conscious about it, she stood a little straighter, walked a little slower. Even though she was nervous, she was incredibly turned-on, the thrill of the forbidden firing her blood.

Once inside, she made her way up to Greg’s new office. The door was ajar just a touch, and the bullpen outside was blissfully quiet. Molly knocked on the door frame, relishing the moment Greg’s weary glance turned into an appreciative grin. He beckoned her inside, and she went, shutting the door behind her.

“Not sure what I did to deserve this, but someone needs to tell me so I can do it again and again,” Greg quipped, getting up from his chair. He crossed the room to her so he could plant an appreciative kiss on her lips.

Molly laughed, squirming out of his arms and untying the belt of her coat. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

He looked her over from head to toe, noting the heels and stockings. “Molly... _what are you wearing under that coat_?”

“Sit back down, and maybe I’ll show you,” she murmured, red-tipped fingers tracing the top button of the coat as she nudged him back toward the chair with the other hand. He backed up and sat down with an appreciative sigh, his hands grasping the arms of the chair and his fingers digging into the upholstery. Molly strutted her way over to the desk and sat on the corner, looking him in the eyes as she slowly unbuttoned the trenchcoat. By the time she got to the third button it was obvious she was wearing absolutely nothing on top and Greg was gazing at her with lust and admiration.

Molly hopped off the desk to stand in front of him as she finished unbuttoning her coat. She’d become familiar with the look on his face, but that didn’t mean she took it for granted - ever. “Ready?” she asked, a cheeky smirk playing on her lips.

“Oh God, I am so ready,” he replied, leaning his head back against the chair as he looked up at her.

She grasped the lapels of the coat and held it open. Not only was she not wearing any sort of clothing, she had completely skipped most of her lingerie. The only things adorning her body were the coat and the black lace garter belt that held up the stockings.

Greg whistled and scooted forward in the chair, sliding his hands up her stocking-covered thighs. “You came all the way from home in just this?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

“Gonna arrest me for public indecency, DCI Lestrade?” she challenged.

He plucked at the tops of her stockings, looking up at her. “I think I can let you off with a warning. This time. You look fucking stunning and I am the luckiest man in London. Scratch that, the world.”

Molly beamed. Greg was so sweet and sexy and she was not going to cry, dammit, because she had eyeliner and mascara on and to hell if she was going to smudge it for anything less than new office sex. She took a deep breath and put one heel-clad foot, then the other, on the edge of his chair. “Do you have any idea how turned-on I got going out in nothing but stockings and a garter belt?”

Greg pushed her thighs apart and leaned in to kiss the inside of her knee. “I can make a guess,” he said, then trailed kisses up her thigh to her neatly trimmed curls. “I can make a very educated guess,” he purred, glancing up at her. He held her eyes as he pressed a kiss to her labia. “Yes?”

Molly shivered, not at all disappointed that any advantage she had in controlling the situation had just slipped away at the touch of his lips. “Absolutely.”

He gently spread her labia with his fingers, gazing at her for a moment before tracing her folds with his tongue. Molly realized he wasn’t wasting any time as he went straight for her clit with his tongue, easing one and then two fingers into her. She braced herself with one hand on the desk and the other on Greg’s head. She grasped at the short silver strands as he licked her, the naughty thrill from the potential of being caught only heightening her arousal. Molly moaned his name, eliciting a muffled chuckle. Then Greg angled his fingers just-so, and she was gone, flying over the edge in bliss.

Greg glanced up at her after a moment, his face wet and glistening. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Molly breathed, and leaned down to kiss him deeply, tasting herself on his lips. “I need you in me right now,” she murmured as she mouthed along his jawline, stubble rasping against her tongue.

Greg groaned, tilting his head to the side. “You might want to let me get my trousers down, then,” he replied, fingers fumbling with his belt.

Molly stood on shaky legs and bent to help him with his belt and flies, tugging his trousers and pants down as he lifted his arse from the chair. His cock stood proudly out from his body, the perfect curve of it just right, she knew from experience, for hitting her g-spot - especially with her on top.

“Scoot down a little,” she suggested, waiting until he did so before straddling him in the chair, hands on his shoulders. Molly rubbed her slick folds against Greg’s cock, the head nudging against her clit with every stroke. It was as much a tease for her as it was for him, maybe more so.

“God, Molly. Please,” Greg hissed, grabbing her hips and lifting her up slightly. He moaned as she slid down onto him. “Fuck. Don’t move. Don’t. Move,” he panted.

Molly leaned in to kiss him for a moment, a slow slide of lips, tongues, and little nips of teeth. She couldn’t help squirming a little, but refused to give in to her instinct to rock against him. He felt far too good inside of her for this to be over yet. Eventually, Greg squeezed her hips and canted his hips up. Molly took the hint and rose up on her knees and then back down, grinding her clit against him on every downstroke. She slid her hands up into his hair and nuzzled into his neck as she pressed herself close against him, the fabric of his shirt cool and smooth against her breasts. Greg helped her along, bracing his feet on the floor to get better leverage to thrust up into Molly’s welcoming warmth. She would have never imagined riding him in his new office chair a year ago, but she was fucking delighted with herself - and him - and wondering why the hell it’d taken her so long to realize it was a great idea.

Molly cradled his face in her palms and kissed him between breaths. “I love your cock,” she murmured against his lips. “I’m going to come again if you keep that up.”

He wrapped his arms around her and bit her lower lip, tugging slightly. “I think that’s the point,” he replied, with a sharp snap of his hips. “Like this?”

“Fuck!” Molly gasped, arching against him. He didn’t need to ask, but she loved that he did. “Yes - oh God - just like that! Don’t stop!” She chased his lips, peppering him with kisses as she fell apart in his arms, clenching around him. Greg grunted as he bucked beneath her a few more times, head falling back against the chair as he came.

 

Later that night, as they sat on the sofa together watching telly and folding laundry, Molly came across the cherry-printed knickers in the pile and laughed. “I _thought_ you’d appropriated these. Now I have the proof.”

Greg grinned. “I realized I’d never seen them on you, except for over the waistband of those damn jeans. Thought I’d return them in the hope I’d get the chance.”

“Oh, I’d say your chances are excellent.”


End file.
